


Doom Destiny Dirge

by astrophile_gypsy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse (Supernatural), F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24520765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrophile_gypsy/pseuds/astrophile_gypsy
Summary: Endverse Destiel in four seasons.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 9





	Doom Destiny Dirge

Spring

Chapter One

Dew glistens in sporadic beads on the spiderweb stretched across the hole in the Impala's windshield.  
It's early, the sun isn't high enough to emit warmth and Castiel... no, it's just Cas now... can identify with that.  
He leaned back into the wet grass, the dew soaking into his coarse cotton shirt, neither warm nor cold.  
Cas could identify with that, too.

An engine echoed off the trees lining the gravel drive to Camp Chitaqua, a low growl that sends a group of birds scattering into the early morning fog in a cacophony of wings.  
Sounds like sheets being shaken.  
He once was able to make that sound.  
Cas turns his head, towards the road, hair damp from the dew, clinging in points to his olive, sun-stained skin.

Dean's coming back, he thought, hearing the army Jeep's engine chugging as it climbed the hill just before the gates. 

Dean had to come back, any other train of thought was more than his mind could handle.

He knew he ought to sit up, walk to the greet the camp's fearless leader; that if Dean had to come looking for him, found him laying here, half stoned out of his mind, staring at dew drops and spiderwebs, Cas would have to listen to another one of those long, drawn out lectures that Dean was giving more and more lately... trying to get him to act... more. 

But Cas couldn't. Going through the motions made him sick to his stomach and Cas just wanted to be numb, not nostalgic.  
One could only miss something so much before they began to hate the memory.

Sitting up, clothes half stuck to his skin from the morning mist over the grass he'd been sprawled in, Cas pushed a hand through his hair, making it stick up in different angles, maybe some of them even presentable.  
Pulling himself to his feet, he made his way, bare footed, across the meadow where Baby rested, but not in peace, to the gravel drive where all incoming members stopped so they could be checked for the virus.

Rita was already flashing her pen light in people's eyes, looking for dilated pupils.

Cas wove through the crowd, not brushing shoulders, not making contact, smooth as a ghost until he stopped just behind Dean; pushing his hands into the pockets of the jeans he wore, waiting for Chitaqua's leader to turn around, acknowledge his presence. 

"Hello, Dean."


End file.
